


You Stand, I Crawl (Who's the First to Burn?)

by sweeterthankarma



Category: New Amsterdam (TV 2018)
Genre: Bisexual Helen Sharpe, Enemies, F/F, Hate Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:35:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23251801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweeterthankarma/pseuds/sweeterthankarma
Summary: Valentina drives Helen insane, and having her like this is the only time where she doesn’t. Or, at least she drives her insane in a different way.
Relationships: Valentina Castro/Helen Sharpe
Comments: 10
Kudos: 13





	You Stand, I Crawl (Who's the First to Burn?)

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the song "Black Sea" by Natasha Blume.

It’s Helen’s lunch break and this is absolutely, positively not the way she should be spending it. 

She’s a little too worked up to think rationally right now, though later she knows she’ll make up for it with regret and overthinking and too much red wine spilled and swallowed alone at her apartment. She’ll want to bang her head against the wall and go back in time to erase this, save herself the awkward, unprofessional conversations and stares in the corridor, but right now, Helen is basking in her mistake.

In Valentina. In her hands and her lips and her leg between her thighs and her, well, _everything._

She’s a nightmare, this woman, a walking contradiction of every single truth Helen stands for but somehow Helen finds that she isn’t leaving, isn’t even putting up a fight. No, instead she’s making a conscious choice to stay here, locked in her office and pressed flush against Valentina’s chest with her hands up her blouse and she’s far, _far_ beyond the point of changing her mind now, of taking the elevator back downstairs to the cafe and opting for a more sensible use of her time. 

Helen may be pressured, overwhelmed by work and life and Max and the accident, and Valentina may be a self-indulgent whirlwind of a woman in every sense of the word, but Helen is okay with this. In a way, it’s what she needs. Valentina drives her insane, and having her like this is the only time where she doesn’t.

Or, at least she drives her insane in a different way.

Besides, Valentina kisses well. She knows what to do with her hands too, and it’s almost a disappointment; she’s so swift on her feet and sure with her mouth and Helen expects her to falter at some point, _wants_ her to. She anticipates the moment she’ll crumble for even a second and showcase some kind of flaw in her execution, because Helen is more than a little sick of this woman winning, being good at everything, even being good at being bad. 

But it doesn’t happen. Valentina doesn’t show vulnerability, not even when Helen is the one taking out her grievances on the space between her thighs, making her wait before giving. Sure, she moans and sighs and grinds her hips against Helen’s mouth and hands a little bit, and for a moment she even grasps onto the side of Helen’s head, keeping her where she wants her, but it isn’t forceful. It’s more of a suggestion, not a need. Valentina is sharp, always composed, and somewhat unbreakable. 

When the tables are turned, Helen knows what Valentina wants to see. She wants Helen to beg, expects her to beg, and there’s a look of surprise— of respect, maybe— at the fact that she doesn’t. Helen doesn’t give into her either. 

But there’s still a difference between them; the playing field isn’t entirely even. Helen shudders a little more, gets wetter, shakes when Valentina’s fingers curl inside of her, and she may feel ecstatic physically, soaring to an orgasm that lingers with her the rest of the day, but it feels like a loss. When Helen comes, Valentina wins. And somehow, when Valentina comes, she still ends up winning. 

Helen just isn’t built the same way as her; the first time Valentina had dared to touch her she’d jumped, lurched back and needed a second to adjust, to process what Valentina had just done— the implications of it all. Valentina both pretends to forget and keeps constant tabs on any and every insinuation and innuendo between the two of them, and Helen doesn’t know if she can keep up. 

Helen feels the same way right now when Valentina drops to her knees once more, landing with a thud so hard Helen wonders if she’ll bruise, wonders if she _wants_ to bruise. She finds that she doesn’t care much herself if she does. If nothing else, it’d be a sign that Valentina is human.

Valentina doesn’t move slow but she’s still a little tempting in the way that she touches. She wants to see the way Helen wants her but Helen doesn’t give in, or at least tries not to. She fights back a sigh boiling in her throat, threatening to leave her mouth as she pushes her hair out of her face. She watches Valentina, gaze not faltering for even a moment. 

She’s surprisingly tender as she brushes her fingers against Helen’s core. It’s just for a second but it’s a little out of character for her— okay, a _lot_ out of character— and the next movement shocks Helen back to reality, reminds her who and what she’s dealing with. Valentina’s fingers push deep inside Helen, curling and giving and taking, and Helen reels. It’s good and hard and rough and it fills Helen with anger and passion and lust, but mainly just anger. She drops her head against the wall, mere centimeters away from one of Valentina’s many framed degrees and certificate, and when the woman beneath her decides at that very moment to use her mouth on the most sensitive area of Helen’s body, Helen can’t help but think maybe she deserves an award for sex, too. 

She knows she’s high off the way Valentina fucks her by the existence of that thought alone, and once again, she feels weak, belittled, swayed. Helen wants Valentina gone after all, out of her life and miles away from New Amsterdam and her patients and coworkers. She’d pay money for Valentina to leave her alone and never come back, never mess with her patients and their trials and their chemo, but right now, that temper just fuels her impulses. 

It’s an interesting predicament. There’s something about Valentina that Helen just can’t say no to— as if their work conflicts haven’t provided enough proof of that; Helen feels like a defenseless child being dragged and carried along through whatever propositions Valentina offers, sheepish and giving in, especially when her tongue follows the same motions her fingers have been so dutifully engaging in.

Helen almost stumbles, having come hard and heavy and fully, and she thinks Valentina might have noticed so she slams a kiss against her mouth by way of distraction, pulling Valentina to her feet and leading her over to the desk. 

“Round two?” Valentina asks, voice almost dripping in amusement. There’s a hint of humor but she sounds condescending too, like she always does, and Helen hates it. 

Valentina had fucked her against the wall, and Helen had been barren and needy and desperate and she had taken it. Now, Helen switches, makes Valentina sit and lean back and wait for it, wait for her. Helen presses her against the desk so hard she almost trips on her own feet, and Helen considers that a win. But Valentina grins as Helen begins a trail of kisses down her neck, and it makes Helen wonder if she’s just turned on or maybe a masochist, along with a sadist. 

_A double threat,_ Helen thinks derisively.

Helen makes sure to use teeth, fighting back and reciprocating as she grips her waist with as much pushiness that Valentina had used on her. She drags her mouth from Valentina’s lips to her shoulder to her collarbone, leaving red marks in her wake, and Valentina doesn’t object. 

“I hate you,” Helen says at the exact moment Valentina’s fingers find hers, intertwining as Helen feels like her eyes linger on Valentina’s just a moment too long. Her eyes closed tight in pleasure, chest heaving, Valentina looks up, composes herself. Helen sees that tiny moment as a victory on her end. She savors the hot feel of Valentina’s skin underneath her, almost burning to the touch, and she lets herself be burned by it. She lets herself be burned by Valentina’s words whipping right back at her in full force.

“I know, I hate you too.”

Helen considers it a win. At least she’s made Valentina feel something.

**Author's Note:**

> This was so fun and indulgent to write and I regret nothing.  
> If you enjoyed, please let me know! Come talk to me in the comments or on my Tumblr blog under the same username, sweeterthankarma.


End file.
